Chapter Text
Yasmen crouched low, hidden among the thick bushes and trees, her eyes fixed on the bandit camp up ahead. She shuffled around, trying to get a better view without blowing her cover. This usually wasn’t how she liked to do things, but this particular mission was…sensitive.
The terrified cries of a child echoed through the quiet of the foggy dawn. Finally, she got a clear view. The child was sobbing her heart out, collapsed on the ground in a sad heap. She was no older than twelve, according to the description. Brown hair, last seen in a blue dress. There was no doubt, it was Vanesa. Taken from a farm near the Honningbrew Meadery, she had been with her captors for three days now.
Yasmen held her breath, her shoulders growing tense as her calloused fingers pulled at the taut string of her bow. Through the gaps in the trees, she counted eight bandits in total, two of them passed out near a doused campfire next to bottles of mead. She doubted she'd have to worry about those guys. Three out of the other six were huddled together, seemingly engaged in a deep conversation. Two were on guard, while the leader, the only one with a helmet on, and a set of armour that seemed to be in decent shape, was busy lighting his pipe.
The sight made Yasmen smirk. He was so relaxed, as though his neck and throat weren’t just wide open for anyone to stick an arrow into. She just needed one good shot, and the leader would be down for good. Beyond that, it was easy work.
The only question was, how would she pull this off without traumatising the poor child more than the kidnapping undoubtedly had? Nobody needed to witness sickening violence at such a tender age. She needed to be quick and precise, focus on getting the kid out, rather than eliminating the bandits. She wasn’t getting paid for that anyway.
With silent determination and a practised sense of calm, Yasmen took aim. Her breath was held as she let the arrow loose with a snap of the bowstring. The bandit leader crumbled to the ground before he knew what hit him, and his body moved no more.
She didn’t wait to see their reactions. Another arrow was already whistling through the air, targeting the nearest bandit, and Yasmen was already on the move through the forest cover. Her second target collapsed soundlessly, his body convulsing as the arrow struck his chest. The kid, finally aware of what was going on around her, began screaming hysterically.
The other bandits also took notice now, shuffling around, shoving each other aside as they frantically looked for their weapons. These guys really were amateurs. She nocked another arrow and let it loose, however this time, it missed its mark and hit a pile of sacks. Swearing under her breath, she moved further into the rapidly thinning bushes. Yasmen’s next shot found its mark in the throat of a third bandit, who collapsed into the dirt, and then the fourth, who bit the dust with an arrow to the stomach.
And just like that, she was out of arrows. She had more in her sack, but she had left it with Zephar in a clearing nearby.
Yasmen had closed much of the distance between herself and the camp now, and the pain in her side was making itself known again. It was time to get close, get the kid, and bolt. The delicate veil of early-morning fog was slowly lifting, taking her discretion along with it. She couldn’t handle an all-out fight in her current state.
She moved swiftly, a shadow among the bushes, and examined her situation. Two of the bandits were still drunk and out cold. One of them was stirring, but he wasn’t a threat anyway. Four lay dead, and the remaining two were already backing away, fear in their eyes as they looked around desperately for the source of all these arrows. The child’s sobs had quieted now, replaced by a confused silence. At least she realised this was happening in her favour.
Now was the time.
Yasmen stepped out of the bushes that previously concealed her, and began sprinting to the best of her ability, towards the bandit camp. “Vanesa!” She called out and the young girl snapped her head around in bewilderment.
Drawing her sword, Yasmen moved toward the child, who looked up at her with wide, tear-filled eyes. Her tattered blue dress was covered in dirt and grime, her hair matted and her face bruised, but at least she was alive. She helped the girl to her feet and brushed the dirt off her dress. “I’ve got you now.”
The girl was trembling like a leaf. “Who-who are you?”
That had always been a difficult question to answer. “Look away, kid.” she said, instead of answering. Thank the Divines, Vanesa was compliant enough to obey, as she closed her eyes and covered her face.
Yasmen brandished her gleaming steel blade at the remaining bandits, who had nothing but a rusty iron sword and a dagger to protect themselves. Before she swung at them, however, a sad realisation made her hesitate. These guys were kids. One of them looked not a day older than sixteen. The other one didn’t even have a full beard yet. What was she thinking?
“Drop your weapons and take five steps back.” She commanded, still holding her sword in an offensive stance. “Turn around to face that boulder, and then drop to your knees.”
The boys stood rooted to the ground.
She lunged forward with a thrust of her blade, careful not to actually hit anyone. Burning pain erupted in her side with the motion and she swallowed down a grunt. “I’ve killed your other four companions, boys. You think you stand a chance?” Yasmen spoke in a low and threatening voice. “Do as I say, and I’ll spare you.”
This seemed to intimidate them into obedience. The boys promptly walked away and dropped to their knees facing the boulder, their hands behind their heads and their weapons abandoned on the ground.
“Good. Now stay that way until you can't hear my footsteps anymore.” With that, she turned around to face Vanesa. “Can you walk?”
The girl nodded, but Yasmen picked her up anyway, cradling her shaking form. The kid didn’t look dangerously injured, but the last time she’d overlooked a small injury, the client had taken thirty Septims off her contracted payment. She didn’t want to risk any cuts in her paycheck this time.
Vanesa clung to her as the first rays of the morning sun kissed their skin and Yasmen began moving through the bushes and tall grass, carrying the girl on her back. Once again, the motion sent waves of pain crashing through her body, but it was only a short distance to the clearing where she’d parked her horse.
Even though the wound was bound and well protected underneath her armour, the throbbing pain that had started flowering since that morning was a telltale sign that an infection was creeping up. She wouldn’t want it turning into a fever, which would delay her paychecks for the next few days. She would have to stay at Whiterun for a while and recover.
“Where are you taking me?” Vanesa mumbled, a hint of fear still lacing her voice.
“Home, kiddo. To your mom, Alyssa and your brother, Simon.” Giving their names seemed to ease her worries and she fell silent for a while.
The clearing wasn’t too far from the bandit camp, and Zephar nickered in excitement as he noticed Yasmen returning. Just as they were approaching the horse, Vanesa spoke up again. “How long will it take?”
Yasmen chuckled. “Not long, kiddo. Not fond of horses?” She felt the girl shake her head. “No worries. I’ll have you home in no time.”
With great effort, she mounted the black steed, the girl still clinging to her back for dear life. “Let’s go boy.” She patted his neck and pressed a small kiss to the top of his head.
The horse moved steadily through the woods, occasionally blowing and snorting as insects bothered him. Vanesa was finally calm and no longer shaking. She still held on tightly to the leather straps of her armour, and began humming a soft tune that Yasmen couldn’t recognise. She felt the vibrations against her back and a soft smile crept across her face, despite the pain she was in. As they rode through the woods in the outskirts of Whiterun, Yasmen allowed herself a rare moment of peace as the warmth of the child nestled against her back and the soft rays of the sun soothed her mind.
She was a mercenary, sure, but it had always been about more than the coin for her. In the midst of wars, bigotry and hatred, and the bitter cold of Skyrim winters, there was still some inkling of warmth to be found, if you knew where to look for it.